


a cantaloupe by its very nature is incapable of verbal communication

by romans



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Gen, M/M, all about the skarsgard, not about the real people oh my god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 06:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romans/pseuds/romans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray gets maybe two steps away from the Humvee before Brad is hovering over his shoulder, looking all hopeful. He clutches his cantaloupe a little closer, sizing Brad up, and decides he probably can't take him in a fight. He hasn't survived all this shit just to die over a piece of fruit. </p><p>Prompt from the <a href="http://pre.dreamwidth.org/7166.html">craigslistlove fic fest</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a cantaloupe by its very nature is incapable of verbal communication

**Author's Note:**

> Not remotely intended to portray the real life people from the HBO series. I am here for the pretty pretty actors.

Ray gets maybe two steps away from the Humvee before Brad is hovering over his shoulder, looking all hopeful. He clutches his cantaloupe a little closer, sizing Brad up, and decides he probably can't take him in a fight. He hasn't survived all this shit just to die over a piece of fruit. It would be undignified, and Ray likes to pretend that he got through this shitstorm with a scrap of dignity intact. Also, Walt's tagging along behind Brad and Ray's kind of gotten attached to him. 

Brad smiles at him, like he's following Ray's train of thought, and Ray would not be the least bit surprised to find out that Brad is an actual telepathic motherfucking X-Man. 

"Don't worry, Brad, I'll share with you," he says, "I wouldn't deny you my sweet, sweet spoils of war. You, too, Walt." 

"Sweet," Walt says. 

Ray got it while they were on patrol: a man had thrust it through the window and asked for cigarettes, and who was Ray to turn down a gift? He hunkers down against a parked Humvee, out of the sun, and starts carving with his ka-bar. Sixta would shit a brick if he saw how Ray was defiling his equipment, but it's totally worth it. 

Brad is scanning the factory yard while Ray carves the cantaloupe, like someone's going to come and take it away, and Ray would mock him but he's feeling kind of protective of it, too. He pries out a generous pinky-orange wedge, glistening and dripping with juice, and passes it to Brad.

"You left the seeds," Brad says, but he doesn't seem to mind, because he starts eating anyways. He's still trying to be furtive about it, which is kind of hilarious. 

"Fuck you, Brad," Ray says, because Brad can fucking deal. Ray didn't have to share his cantaloupe. 

Walt all but snatches the fruit out of Ray's hands, grinning like a looney, and his excitement makes Ray smile fondly. Brad is making obscene noises while he eats, which is normally Ray's department, but when Ray finally bites into his own slice, he can see where Brad is coming from. The cantaloupe is sweet and wet and goddamn if it's not the best thing he's eaten since he left the States. 

"This is better than pussy," he says. 

"You know, normally I don't even like cantaloupe. It's fucking filler in otherwise decent fruit salad," Brad says. 

"Who gives a shit? This is the first fresh food I've had in like a month," Walt says. Brad grins crookedly, and then his smile goes a little strange. 

"Brad!" 

The LT is coming over, with Reporter dogging his steps. 

"We're doing a perimeter check," he says. 

"Yes, sir," Brad says. Ray wonders if he even realizes how he's looking at the LT. He kind of understands it, they all love the LT, but Brad might just actually _love_ him.

"Save me some," Brad says, in a tone Ray thinks is supposed to be scary. He slurps more juice, and regards Brad evenly. 

"Get your own," he says. "This baby is all mine." 

Brad rolls his eyes, swipes a hand across the back of his sticky mouth and stands up (and up and up) and lopes after the LT (who was making longing eyes at the fruit, Ray thinks, or possibly Brad. LT is pretty good at being sneaky but Ray notices things). He watches them stride across the yard, tailed by Reporter, and bites thoughtfully into another slice of cantaloupe.

"On a scale of one to Fruity Rudy," he says, "How gay do you think Brad would go for the LT?"

"Ray!" Walt hisses. 

"Seriously, homes," Ray says, slurping juice through his teeth, "that is a straight-up homosexual love connection they've got going on there. They just don't know it." 

"You can't talk about this shit," Walt says. He's so earnest. It's cute. 

"Don't worry, Walt. It's just between you and me and this little guy, and a cantaloupe by its very nature is incapable of verbal communication. He won't tell." 

"Just gimme the cantaloupe," Walt says. He sounds world-weary and old. It saddens Ray's heart. 

"Seriously, though," Ray says. He knows what's up.


End file.
